Tag Archives: was

A SPECIAL GIFT

Posted on by under 2026, February 2026 - The Gift

Adam Taylor bounced out of the office, a ruggedly handsome man. His life revolved around getting that sensational story that would guarantee his fame and fortune. Life had other plans, he would become famous just not in the way imagined.

Adam had been working on something secretly for months. He was getting close and the lady Audrey, his snout,  promised it was the real deal, she had inside information. Walking to the quiet gardens in Kensington he smiled to himself. At last it was going to happen. He was writing the story in his head.

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The Gift of Kambo

Posted on by under 2026, February 2026 - The Gift

Martha Ferris didn’t see herself as a bad person, never went out of her way to hurt anyone. She just made a point of looking out for number one and if that meant trampling on other people, too bad.

When money was tight, she had a trick to save on food bills. Namely pinching grub from the fridge at work. Taking pride in her quick sleight of hand, as she grabbed her can of coke, she’d shove Rachel’s mini sausages or Nigel’s rice balls into her handbag, but it was Holly Blackbone she loved to steal from.

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Cutting Room Floor

Posted on by under 2026, January 2026 - The Movie

Remember the Saturday morning queue,  standing  outside the local flea pit waiting for it to open? I used to get there early so I could get a seat somewhere about 8 rows back and in the middle of the stalls. It was magic, and I’d watch just about anything – twice if I could get away with it.  The Pathe news was a bit of a struggle but even that, and the adverts, had their moments. I can’t say I was drawn to the acting side, but the mystery in the making of films really thrilled me. Just wonderful.

 The projectionist running films from his high box looked like a good place to ask questions, so one Saturday I knocked very gently on the box door and found a kind looking man.

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ANOTHER TIME

Posted on by under 2026, January 2026 - The Movie

Looking around the empty room, Cara and Helen were lost in nostalgia. The room still held the smell of lavender, their mother’s favourite polish. Clearing their childhood home had been heartbreaking, and now there was only the attic to clear. They climbed the stairs, their heavy steps echoing through the space. Neither had set foot there for many years. 

The door creaked loudly, startling them. They saw a room with boxes packed neatly, cobwebs hanging from the rafters, and a chill air caused them to shiver. Both peered about looking for any sign of rodents. There were no sounds and their breathing relaxed. They checked the first box full of childhood toys, which looked forlorn and slightly grubby. They touched them, smiling, memories of happier times stirred.

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It’s a fake?

Posted on by under 2026, January 2026 - The Movie

Mrs Jane Hastings, aged fifty-three, felt nothing but childish envy for Ms. Julia Parkhurst. Ms. Parkhurst’s cardinal sin was being pretty. Very pretty actually. She was (to hell with delicacy) a bosomy, twenty-three-year-old, who’s bright smile and cheerful disposition made the acne encrusted boys of Roverbank Comprehensive grunt with longing.

Still professionalism had to be maintained, because today. something alarming had been brought to Hastings’ attention. And when she called Ms. Parkhurst into her office, (resenting how gracefully the young woman sat down) she coughed and said “Julia, we don’t pry into the staff’s personal lives, it’s just when a sex tape is leaked to the public, you may have to resign.”

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No Yesterday

Posted on by under 2026, January 2026 - The Movie

Rejection emails are processed differently, Jade had learned. She scanned the text for the now-familiar key words, which leapt off the screen directly into her heart.

            ‘Re: Your screenplay, Tomorrow… whilst we enjoyed… unfortunately… highly selective…’

            Jade slammed the laptop shut, as though the message couldn’t hurt her if it wasn’t witness to her tears. When the images of the Netflix parties she wouldn’t be hosting started flashing through her mind, she turned to red wine and The Beatles.

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The Anti-Santa

Posted on by under 2025, Dec 2025 - Tis the Season

“Anti-Santa!” scoffed Mr. Cushing “Dear me. Can we even admit that regular Santa isn’t a real thing.”

Mrs McCulikn merely stirred the pot on the hob, humming to herself as she did around 5:45 when Mr. Harding would sneak into the pantry and shove his hands into whatever jar he fancied, Mrs. Harding would have words with the staff when he did so but if the pantry was locked Mr. Harding would have words instead. At times such as this, it paid to be deaf.

“According to little Christopher” explained Mrs Marks “the anti-Santa is for bad girls and boys. How does it go again? Good girls and boys leave offerings to Santa Claus.”

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Bad Fairy

Posted on by under 2025, Dec 2025 - Tis the Season

It was here, in this very spot, that I met him last year. I was taking a cigarette break in between tooth-collecting stops, admiring the view of the town below.

            Only one house was close enough to see inside – log fire burning, Christmas tree aglow, presents piled beneath it. A couple clinked wine glasses on a squishy sofa.

‘Cheers!’ I muttered, raising my cigarette aloft. I had my own present haul in a bag beside me. I’d only taken a few gifts from the children’s stockings while I grabbed their teeth. I called it a Christmas Eve bonus, although it was mostly tat.

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The Outback Mysteries

Posted on by under 2025, Dec 2025 - Tis the Season

“Fucking mozzies” muttered Bob half asleep as he swatted another of the bastards with his hand. “And fucking flies!” he yelled, batting away another attacker.

Can’t stand it here, he thought bitterly, knowing he couldn’t voice his hatred of this new homeland out loud. Surrounded by Sheena’s Australian family who were all thrilled to have her back, had put paid to that. Christmas here was all wrong. Blazing sunshine, barbecued seafood, chilly salads – where was the tradition in that? He missed carol singers, his mother’s crispy roasties and the possibility of sledging in the snow. What he’d give for a Baileys to hand, the EastEnders Christmas special blaring and a box of Quality Street to while away the afternoon.

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Christmas Lights

Posted on by under 2025, Dec 2025 - Tis the Season

‘Twas the night before Christmas. You could tell this from the furiously furtive wrapping activities and mince pie production-lines and excited children pretending to be well behaved whilst sneakily stealing chocolate baubles from the tree.  Whilst I’ve never uttered ‘bah, humbug’ out loud, Scrooge’s words do reflect my feelings about being comprehensively ripped off by myth-making so flexible and so divorced from its origins that even Tommy Yaxley Robinson Lennon can seek to exploit it with some level of impunity.

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Illumination

Posted on by under 2025, Dec 2025 - Tis the Season

Sorcha was thinking of her ‘A’ level exams in the summer. She really wanted to go to university; find herself. She stirred the gravy as her mother moved around the kitchen, busy. Last night Mum had spent an age on the food, this morning longer.

‘What do you think?’ her mother eventually said.

‘Are we done?’

‘Yes, I’ll tell your dad we’re ready to eat.’

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THE HONORABLE THING

Posted on by under 2025, Nov 2025 - Traitors

In a private club tucked away in central London three gentlemen sat savouring their brandies. The oldest, a plump figure bald, lived-in face, his eyes bird-like darting everywhere.

”The memorial service was pukka, don’t you think?”

His colleagues nodded their agreement. The man with a military bearing leaned forward, glancing around.

”Just thank the lord he did the honourable thing after his traitorous behaviour.”

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Liberation

Posted on by under 2025, Nov 2025 - Traitors

            ‘Bring the traitor in,’ the major said.

            Flaming orange hair topped his rugged head. Next to him sat the captain, his blue eyes chill discs. Fire and ice together hunkered behind a desk. A youth in khaki pushed in a tall man, his hands tied behind his back.

            ‘You’ve been found guilty of treason,’ the major said. ‘You will be executed by members of the people’s liberation army immediately. Any last words?’

            The man spat on the floor in contempt and was dragged out.

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Anything You Want to Tell Me?

Posted on by under 2025, Nov 2025 - Traitors

Jasmine approached her make up like an artist approaches a canvas. Her case of pastel eyeshadows as complex as a painter’s pallet. She dabbed her eyelids with emerald green and turquoise, transforming herself from housewife to glamourous movie star  

Jasime glanced at the light blue veins that braided her translucent wrists like Ming replicas. Marred only by a faint butterfly tattoo just above her pulse point. Ink so stubborn it resisted removal by any modern method. A dogged reminder of the secrets she carried like a long-buried splinter

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Soulless Wretch!

Posted on by under 2025, Nov 2025 - Traitors

Kevin Bentley is an evil, soulless wretch, and has caused me nothing but pain, misery and utter suicidal despair.

We were once (I thought) best friends. I remember the first day of school, a frightened Kevin stood all alone in the corner of the playground and only I cared enough to talk to him. Our first few years of friendship were great, we would hang out at each other’s homes, sit next to each other in class, share our toys and video games but alas then puberty arrived and although it was remorseless to me, (my nickname was pizza face) it transformed the runty Kevin into an adonis,  and that’s when his utter cruelty began.

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Pay Back Time

Posted on by under 2025, Nov 2025 - Traitors

Things can soon go downhill. One minute the town was a pleasant seaside resort, then it turned rapidly into an environmental catastrophe. There were rats of course, and seagulls ready to exploit the new chaos – much better organized than the people, as it turned out. 

It needs to be said that this was never a local matter. Far from it, it was a global problem, but that penny took a while to drop. Meanwhile the locals took a critical view of the situation, allocating  blame with a distinct lack of evidence for causes or remedies.

The refuse services did excellent work trying to keep up with clearing the constantly replenished rubbish amassing on the beaches and spilling onto roads. It wasn’t their fault the landfill sites were overwhelmed and foul smelling garbage had to be disgorged on available green spaces and parks. But blame was allotted and curses duly exchanged.

The sea as an agent of revenge was considered.

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Dick Bullet – Private Dick

Posted on by under 2025, October 2025 - The Good Life

I got a call from this broad come August. Can’t complain because I can’t choose my clients. Said she got a case of the usual, good for nuthin’ hubby making excuses on where he kept going at night.

I’m Dick Bullet, private eye, got a cheating wife/husband and/or business partner then I’m the sap who sits outside of their house for days, hoping to snap up the incriminating evidence.

This Mrs Mallory may have been a goddess of the silver screen forty years ago, but Old Father Time is a mean old man and chips away at anybody’s good looks. Where she was once stunning with eyes sharp enough to pierce diamonds and legs slender than a snake, practically death and sex wrapped in one tight glove, now she was like a dried raisin, those dark eyes had gone greyer than a rain cloud, her hair was whiter than the north pole and her skin sagged worse than a mattress left out in a forest.

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Celestial Life

Posted on by under 2025, October 2025 - The Good Life

“Stop calling it a cult, mum! And stop calling me Beverley, I’m Vasanthi now”. Vasanthi didn’t like the defensiveness she heard in her voice as it rose to a squeak.

“Oh darling, I wish you’d just come home. You’ve had your fun now. I do get it… I had my spiritual awakening in Tibet when I was your age…” Vasanthi rolled her eyes as her mother continually

“… and I adored that time, but I came to my senses and I came home. Manchester University rang to confirm they’d hold your place in Computer …. “

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